


Supermassive Black Soul

by baeberiibungh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad Dean, Cas is full fledged angel, Demon Dean, M/M, Mental Abuse, Physical Abuse, Stolen Grace, Suicidal Castiel, Verbal Abuse, Violent Dean, breaks off from canon, diminished grace, i dont know what else to tag, i really suck at tagging i am so sorry, let me know if I missed anything, physical violence, sam hurt bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3340550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeberiibungh/pseuds/baeberiibungh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a demon, Cas got his grace back and Sam is still trying to find Dean. Dean goes for a bad breakfast and Cas drops by to  see him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from that song by that band. (supermassive black hole by Muse). M on a music kick.

Dean woke up from a deep sleep, dreamless like that of an innocent and stretched mightily on the bed like a cat. There is always a moment where Dean expects himself to be shocked at the fact that he is a demon, but that knowledge is now omnipresent, like the fact that he never had to state that he was a human each morning he woke up before. Now his skin always felt delicious somehow, smells more pungent and arrogance in every step.

He sat up and looked around the room. It was a subtly lit room that hid the sun behind dark curtains. A thick growl emanated from the side of the bed and Dean looked over at Rasputin, the hellhound pup that Crowley had gifted him. Juliet was its mother. While it had yet to reach the enormous proportion of its mother, its voice was dark enough to chill any brave heart. Dean stepped out of the bed and the pup scurried back.

Donning on a black tee and ripped jeans after a trip to the bathroom, Dean headed towards the main door of his suite and while palming his wallet and gun. The gun now just rode his pants, it was hardly needed anymore. He felt a hankering for something red and greasy with a good slug of dark whiskey. So it was still daytime, who gave a fuck anymore. Crowley had instructed Dean to let him know of any movement. Dean heeded none to it.

Once outside, shades covering his eyes, Dean headed to a dinghy diner that made food Dean could actually taste. It was a miracle that the health Department had not shut it down yet. Still, Dean had a fondness for the place, if what he felt for it could be termed fondness at all. He stepped in and saw that the place was half empty, even though it was just past lunch time. Huh. Maybe the people knew enough, Dean mused.

After giving a huge order, he pulled out his mobile and switched it on. As expected and as usual, there were many messages and voicemails from Sam. He listened to them, checked what he had written and switched it off again. Nothing from it penetrated really. The only thing he was glad to know was that Sam was alive. And even then it was not exactly happiness he felt at that news.

Halfway through his meal, the door opened and someone came in and stood near him. Dean did not turn, but he knew that smell anywhere. He gave no indication that he was aware of the presence, taking big bites of his big breakfast.

‘If you were still human Dean, this food would have grievously hurt you,” intoned a low voice that used to feature a lot in Dean’s dreams from before. Now he saw no dreams, neither the bad nor the good ones.

“One of the benefits of being a demon Cas, bad food does no shit to me. You want a bite?”

Cas slid in the other side of the booth as Dean continued to munch without any pleasure. Cas looked the same. Getting back his grace has done wonders for him. Now he is what he always was, an angle of the lord. And Dean, why Dean was the same as always was too, deserving of no light or brightness in his world. This was not Dean speak born from his deep guilt over everything. It was just how he viewed the truth. There was no pain behind the though just general acceptance.

“Sam is still looking for you. He prays to me to find you. I... don’t go”

“Bet that puts Samantha’s panties in a bunch eh?”

“I keep my promises Dean. I will not tell Sam.”

“How very generous of you Cas. To what do I owe this pleasure by the way?”

Cas stares at Dean for sometime before admitting, “I wanted to see you.”

“I didn’t,” Dean replies without a beat in between.

“Would you prefer I leave Dean?”

“I really don’t give much of a damn Cas. Your presence or absence is the same to me. As I have already told you. A dozen or so times.”

Castiel purses his lips and looks both very annoyed and very sad at that. With a slight jerking nod of his head, he slides out of the booth and heads towards the door. Dean watches as Castiel marches off to be the good little angel of God as the heavenly father intended. Demons do not feel nausea but that was exactly what Dean was feeling right now. Maybe this was it. Maybe this time Cas will not return. Maybe this was the last time.

Even when Dean was human, he has no comforting ideas about ending up in heaven. He just had guilt backing up his conviction that he will end in hell one way or another. Cas brought hope against that idea but since he became a demon, the idea of being in hell was not only acceptable, it was actually comforting. It was where he had always belonged after all. And this was totally okay with him.

What was not that Cas be bogged down in his darkness, in the black quicksand of screams and never ending pain. Dean was okay with falling, but even after he became a demon, he couldn’t make out how far he will fall if he makes the angle fall for him. So it was best to let Cas go and be where he is supposed to be, shinning luminescent and grace on the whole of earth. Dean found his peace in that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes much darker and Sam and Cas faces the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very dark. I have up the tags and stuff to coincide with this chapter and most of the tags actually cover this one. Look for the tags. trigger warning apply on almost all of them.

Dean wasn’t aware how slyly the poison of the mark spread throughout his body. At first, even after becoming a demon, perhaps because it was his own soul in his own body, he had the semblance of some affection for Sam and something else for Castiel. A kind of trace memory maybe, acquired by the repeated and overwhelming feelings of love for the two. As if his heart, that beat more sluggishly now, remembered the paths of affections Dean used to carry around.

Now, however, he looks at Sam and all he feels is the need to erase him. Jealous of his life and his pure soul, no lingering hesitancy over beating him to a pulp and breaking his jaws and two of Sam’s ribs. It ceases to be anything related to Dean. Sam, no, it is just meat. The only thing that stirs inside him is the omnipresent anger and spite for anything that is not himself. There is no love for him either, just a vast emptiness that screams to be filled up by a haze of blood.

Dean looks at Sam, lying on his side, blood dripping from various cuts and bruises, unconscious and steps away. More fun will be had with this one later. Sam had screamed for Dean to come back as Dean beat him to within an inch of his life, the tears of despair falling rapidly from his eyes smelling like a bouquet to Dean. The best part was that in spite of how badly and hard Dean hit him, Sam kept on looking at him with this lingering hope as he garbled for him with his broken mouth. Dean looks forward to killing that hope off bit by bit soon.

Two doors down, Dean enters another room. Castiel is sitting in a chair, his hands and feet tied, mouth gagged with a spider gag and his face a bloom of hurt tissue and cut skin. Apart from his filthy boxers, which he had been wearing for a week now since that’s how long Dean overpowered them, Castiel is naked. His torso is littered with small cuts that ooze angelic grace slowly and his face is of that of a man riding the highest points of pain. He appears to be unconscious to Dean as he surveys his handiwork, the chair Cas sitting on being woven with barbwire that cut him even more.

Dean saunters up to Castiel and goes to his knees to survey Castiel’s face closely. Castiel is breathing shallowly, whimpering sometimes, his eyes crunched shut and looking very pale. Dean stands up and backhands him. Hard. Castiel wakes up with a chocked shout that makes him jerk in his thorny throne and he still suddenly. Pushing his eyes wide as far as they will go, Castiel peers up to Dean and seems to shrink on himself. Given that Dean had spent enjoying himself with Castiel three times more time than Sam, it is to be expected.

“Heya Cas,” purrs Dean. “How’s my angel doing? Does your face hurt baby? Do you want me to smash it till you feel nothing hmmm?” asks Dean as he combs his hands through Castiel’s hair sticky with sweat and blood. In spite of himself, Castiel leans into the gentle touch and that is when Dean grabs a fistful of it and jars him sharply to the right. All his cuts that side start to ooze more quickly. Castiel starts to feel faint, praying to God that perhaps this time Dean will let him go. But no.

Dean takes out a small vial out of his jeans pocket and tilts it over Castiel’s open mouth. It glows bluish white and Castiel recognises it to be one of his brothers. He tries to block his mouth with his tongue but the two drops of grace Dean lets fall slide in easily and he instantly feels his injuries knitting up and grace a bit replenished. Dean has been doing this the whole week, bleeding him and then letting him off with two drops and each time it had been a comrade, an angel Castiel knew, as if Dean somehow found out all his life before Dean and was perversely punishing him for it.

“There now it wasn’t that bad was it? See how I love you Castiel, even though the disgusting pure thing you are. Or perhaps not so pure, yes? After all, which other angel would fall still be love with a demon. No one else apart from you because you are that broken Cas. But don’t you worry my love don’t you worry. I will show you exactly how broken you are. I will let have his screams of agony but yours I will savour each like a precious gem. You would like that wouldn’t you Cas?” says Dean as he lightly runs his hands all over Castiel’s body, making him shiver and the spikes of the barb wire feel his virgin skin anew as Dean pushes him onto them.

By now Cas is openly crying, tears flowing heedlessly from his eyes, one almost swollen shut and he hiccoughs, remembering when he had griped Dean tight and raised him from perdition. Castiel sees now that that man is no more. He died at the hands of Metatron and this thing inhabiting his body is not Dean, not his Dean. But then he opens his eyes again and sees Dean smiling at him as he had hundreds of times before and Castiel can actually feel his heart breaking.

“Now now, enough tears. I hope you have left enough juice to heal the other as well. I want him lucid and shouting and able to talk the next time I visit him,” Dean tsks. And Castiel wails at that, this loud broken wail, so very very sad and sorry and asking for forgiveness from his Dean, HIS Dean that he couldn’t save his baby brother, he couldn’t, and he just wants to die, he had never wanted to die before, even with the Leviathans, he hadn’t wanted death then but he does now, Castiel just wants to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am extremely sick as i write and post this. My asthma has just make a comeback after like 5 years and i haven't really slept well for sometime now, and this has been the baddest thing i think i have posted here. revive me with some of your crits, comments and/or kudos guys, tah.

**Author's Note:**

> unbetaed. writing after a long time. need to get back into groove. seems almost apparent that English not my first language. Thank you for reading!


End file.
